


infiltrating redcliffe chantry

by kingofantiva



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Crack, F/M, I Want A Divorce, The Chantry (Dragon Age), dark chantrycore aesthetic Yes Daddy, i just write dirty canticles now my brain is dead, just kidding i hate him, mia mahariel is my wife and i hate her, zevran is a holy man, zevran is the actual maker this is not up for debate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29242581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingofantiva/pseuds/kingofantiva
Summary: zevran and mia were bored and drunk so they decided to infiltrate redcliffe chantry and just ruin everyone's day (as usual)
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Kudos: 3





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you're happy Amanda.

Redcliffe was painfully quiet that morning. Much too quiet for the likes of Mia and Zevran. The rest of the party were back in the castle being boring, just sitting around waiting for the armies to get their shit together so they could finally yeet the archdemon off the top of a tower and have done with it all. 

Mia held Zevran’s arm as they wandered down the hill to the town square, where villagers were going about their boring lives and preparing for the highlight of their day: an Andrastian sermon. 

“Shall we join them?” said Mia, gesturing to the people outside the chantry. 

“You are Dalish,” said Zevran. 

“Alright, no need to be racist. It would be for _your_ benefit anyway - the Maker is probably tired of your shit.” 

“I pray beside my bed every night, thank you very much,” he said. “I am a very religious man, as it happens. That’s why I have been blessed with such a large-” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Mia interrupted. 

Zevran gasped dramatically. “Oh, you wound me! I feel very sad and I wish to cry,” he said, before raising his voice for the entire town square. “I am trapped! I am betrothed to a cruel, cruel woman who will not love me for who I am!” 

“Are you kidding me...” When Mia turned to him, he was waving a flask about like a drunken idiot. “Wait- are you drinking? It’s not even midday.” 

He took a quick swig of the brandy and then stuffed it in his pocket with a giggle. “No, no. This is Holy Water **™** – I had to take a sip to be purged of my sinful thoughts. I have needed a lot of it since I met you.” 

Mia chased him to the back of the chantry and wrestled it off him. “Give me that!” 

“Give me back my holy water, you witch!” he shouted. “This woman is stealing my holy water! Help!” 

When Mia downed the rest of his flask, Zevran gasped so hard he thought his lungs might explode. 

“How could you? That was the only thing standing between me and my wicked temptations!” He then leapt up onto the wall and screamed at the top of his lungs. “DO YOU HEAR THAT, REDCLIFFE? I AM NOW A MAN OF SIN.” 

A door at the back of the chantry slammed open so violently that the noise almost made Zevran fall off the wall in shock. An exceedingly grumpy pair of lay brethren marched towards them and shook their heads. “Get off that wall you knife-eared wretch or I’ll-” 

“Excuse me?” said Mia. “Racism? At this hour?” 

The old man who had said it looked at her as if he were the real victim. “I-… it was just a turn of phrase. I apologise. But you really must stop-” 

“Did you hear that Zevran?” said Mia, turning to him with feigned shock. “A holy man called you a knife-ear!” 

Zevran jumped down from the wall and fell to the ground, then drunkenly pulled himself back up to stand beside Mia. “I did hear it, my dear! I cannot believe such a revered man would speak to me in such a way! You would think the Maker loved us all, but I see how it is.” 

“The Maker does not love us,” Mia said, pretending to well up and cry into Zevran’s shoulder. 

The younger man tried his best to speak calmly. “We only wanted to ask you to keep the noise down... And I can assure you; all are equal in the Maker’s eyes.” 

“Look what you have done!” Zevran said. “You have upset this poor prostitute. She can barely afford one meal a day, and this is how you act? For shame.” 

The silver-haired man furrowed his brow. “A prostitute? That’s... that’s the Grey Warden, Miss Mahariel.” 

“Ah, yes! There are many who know her name, though they do not always call her that,” said Zevran, barely able to contain his laughter. 

“I’ve had enough of this. Come with me, Warden,” the man said, approaching Mia to coax her away from Zevran. 

When the man lay a hand on her back, Mia spun around in reflex and knocked the man out cold. 

“Mia! How rude!” Zevran scolded, though when the younger man went to run for help, Zevran chased after him and smacked his head into the wall. 

The pair of them looked down at the bodies in silence, making the expression a certain green ogre makes when he knows he has done something very naughty. 

“Well, who is going to do the sermon now?” said Mia. 

Zevran considered this for a minute, before turning back to her with a mischievous grin. “We could do it.” 

“I’d rather die.” 

“Look,” he said, “The people of Redcliffe are scared, tired, and plagued with sin. Their fathers, brothers, and sons will be marching to Denerim soon, with only prayers to wish them home. Would you really abandon the people in their time of need?” 

She tried to give him a stare that said **_no_ ** , but the Holy Water **™** had gone to her head, and the grin on her face said **_yes_ ** _._


	2. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bind my hands and bless me daddy maferath

The drunken elves shuffled about in their oversized robes they had stolen from the men out back. While the people were finding their seats, Zevran and Mia were finding wine in the cellar. Quenching their thirst made them feel much closer to the Maker, and prepared them to give the most holy sermon that had ever been sermoned. 

“BEHOLD,” said Zevran, standing at the pulpit with his arms flung wide. “We are gathered here today to honour our most holy!” 

Mia was standing beside him, eyes watering from the wine, though she straightened out her robe and lay a hand on the pulpit to steady herself. 

A few members of the crowd clearly recognised them, though assumed it was some sort of special pre-march service offered by the Wardens. 

“The darkspawn have plagued these lands with a Blight,” Mia began. 

“I hadn’t noticed.” 

“Shut the fuck up Zevran.” Mia took a deep breath. “There has been no end to the death and destruction. Why is that, you ask? Why Ferelden? Because this country is full of SIN. And where was the Maker when Lothering fell? Why, the Maker was wrinkling his nose at the lot of you!” 

The people of Redcliffe turned to each other in horror, quite unable to believe the depression that was assaulting their ears. 

Zevran looked at the manuscript in front of him and tossed it aside in a strange, flamboyant gesture that made Mia certain he was bisexual. The parchment smacked her in the face but Zevran ignored her curses and carried on. “Betrayal is the sin that founded the Chantry. And you are all guilty of this, let it be known. For every time you fornicated out of wedlock, the Maker created another darkspawn. And how many darkspawn are there? Thousands! You are all dirty, dirty sinners.” 

“SHAME, SHAME, SHAME,” chanted Mia, ringing a bell with each word. She shuffled around the room and continued to chant, striking fear into all who lay eyes upon her. 

While Mia did that, Zevran began to recite Apotheosis 1:14 from memory: 

  


_“With neither blade nor shield, Andraste gave herself up,_   
  
_To her enemies. And_ _Maferath_ _bound his wife's hands,_   
  
_And delivered his seed unto her after a sensual massage.”_

  


The audience began to murmur to themselves, and some even stood up to leave, but Zevran was not having any of that. 

He jumped up onto a chair and said at the top of his voice: “If you do not sit back down and listen to this sermon, then I will come down on this chantry like the hammer of Maferath! THE THUNDER OF MY VENGEANCE WILL ECHO THROUGH THESE HALLS LIKE THE GUST OF A THOUSAND WINDS!” 

The room went silent. Everyone sat back down and some looked as if they were about to cry. Apart from one - Mia stopped ringing her bell and burst into laughter at the other side of the room. 

“Do not LAUGH,” Zevran shouted at her, trying to remain serious. “You see! Not even Sister Mahariel is free of sin! This is why she cannot help but laugh! She has worshipped false gods for twenty-five years. She has fornicated under the trees, and in broad daylight too! And this is who the Maker has sent to lead us? It is surely a cruel joke, no? We must all pray to the Maker, so that she may fuck the archdemon too.” 

Everybody began to panic then – men and women of all creeds were on their knees, crying and praying for forgiveness as Mia returned to the pulpit with her bell. She stood there at the head of the hall, feeling a strong urge to chant SHAME once again, but took a deep breath and perished the thought. 

“Do not worry, good people of Redcliffe. For I have yet another verse,” said Zevran. 

“My body is ready.” 

He cleared his throat: 

_“Spite ate away all that was good, kind, and loving till nothing was left but the arousal itself, coiled 'round my loins like a great worm._   
  
_And in my darkest hour, I turned from Her and vowed that I would destroy Her._   
  
_At the moment of Her_ _climax_ _I knew what I had done, and I wept._   
  
_I shall bring the seed of my fathers to Her Bed. Therein lies their salvation and mine._   
  
_And She came to me in a vision and laid Her hand on my crotch._   
  
_Her touch was like fire that did not burn. And by Her touch, I was made pure again._   
  
_Despair not, said She, for your fish chowder was Maker-blessed and returned me to His side._   
  
_I am forgiven.”_

Following that abomination of a canticle, those that had been crying and praying suddenly got up in disgust. 

“That’s not how it goes!” one shouted. 

A short, stout man approached the head of the hall and spoke to the crowd. “This is a joke! Why did they allow this Antivan pretender into our chantry?!” 

“Now, now,” said Zevran. “This is simply how we do things in my country. I did not mean to offend.” 

The man stared at him for a time, trying to tell whether he was serious, then sat back down in a huff. From across the room, Zevran noticed a certain silver-haired mage. How long she had been there, he did not know, but there was no doubt in his mind that Wynne was going to kill him. With that in mind, he shrugged and carried on. 

“Wynne! Everyone behold, our elderly sister in arms. Although she has helped us fight against the darkspawn, she has done it with MAGIC. This, as you well know, is a sin.” 

Mia could not keep it inside her any longer. “SHAME, SHAME, SHAME,” she chanted, and to her surprise, everyone joined in. The entire room was looking at Wynne and chanting. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Zevran said under his breath. He was on the verge of losing it. “So,” he began, trying to stop his laughter. “There is but one canticle that may deliver this heretic from sin! May you now all please stand for Exaltations 1.” 

Wynne looked as if she were going to blow the entire chantry to pieces. But this wasn’t Kirkwall, and she wasn’t a homoerotic mage that compulsively spoke Orlesian. 

In light of her anger, Zevran began the canticle: 

_“Lady of Perpetual Beauty, your praises I sing!_   
  
_Gladly do I accept the gift invaluable_   
  
_Of your bosom! Let_ _thee_ _be the vessel_   
  
_Which bears a fine place,_   
  
_To rest one's head and cry.”_

At that, Wynne marched towards them with her staff crackling. Mia knew they were done for now, but found herself unable to stop screaming SHAME. 

Zevran panicked and ran to the altar to light a candle. “We light this candle here today for Wynne, as a plea to the Maker for her salvation!” he said, holding the lit candle in the air. When she approached, Zevran began to laugh nervously and shuffled away to place the candle in a holder. 

“Run away run away run away,” Mia chanted to herself as she ran towards Zevran. 

As she came up behind him in a drunken panic, she managed to step on Zevran’s oversized robe. Zevran tumbled over onto the candelabra with such force that it yeeted all of the candles across the room, starting a small fire. 

“Now look what you’ve done!” Wynne cried, staring in horror at the fire that raged before them. 

The room was soon filled with screams and chaos. 

“Get up, get up!” Mia said, pulling Zevran’s drunken ass up and taking him by the hand. They ran to the door as fast as they could, their stomachs hurting from laughter. 

“Everything is fine,” said Wynne as the fire raged around her. Then she decided it was absolutely not fine and cast a fireball in the direction of the blasphemous elves. 

It missed, and hit a bench instead, which was immediately engulfed in flame. Before the chantry crumbled before her eyes, Wynne bolted to the door and searched for her comrades. 

To her horror, Mia was standing with the crowd. “Everyone look! This woman set the chantry on fire!” she said, before sprinting back to the castle with Zevran. 

Wynne sat on the steps and held her head in her hands, feeling quite fed up with everyone. She sat there for a long time, listening to the sounds of the fire behind her. To her surprise, a blonde-haired man sat down next to her and smiled. 

“BONJOUR,” he said. 

“I don’t speak Orlesian,” said Wynne. 

“Neither do I. I’m a fucking poser,” he said. “I like your style though. Stressed, possessed, and ready to.... cause unrest.” Anders pointed to the burning chantry. “Wanna date?” 


End file.
